


Not Always Easy... Always Worth It

by ADCurtis



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-01-21 05:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21294374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADCurtis/pseuds/ADCurtis
Summary: I have a hard time writing strictly fluff... so these have a bit more angst and/or different approaches... Ch 1: See how Aang reacts to Katara teaching Bumi to fight at school... Ch 6: Unsolicited flirtations bring conflict to our couple... Ch 4-5: Baby-making is not always a smooth road...Collection of one-shots. Kataang Week 2019
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 103





	1. Frustrated

“Katara! How could you tell him to do that?!”

Ten-year-old Bumi sat in the middle of the sofa in the living room of his home on Air Temple Island with his hands between his knees, watching as the “discussion” between his parents escalated into something he was feeling more and more uncomfortable with.

For several weeks now, Bumi had been dealing with an older kid at school bullying him. Heng was an earthbender (and a blockhead in Bumi’s opinion), but he was bigger, and stronger, and a bender… and Bumi didn’t know how to handle it. You would think that people would leave the Avatar’s kid alone, right? But that’s not what Heng thought, in fact he told Bumi that’s why he needed a beat down. “You think you’re so great because of your Dad? Well guess what, you’re nothing. You’re just a dumb kid who can’t bend and will run to his Daddy to protect him!”

Bumi hadn’t told his parents, or his teachers. He was trying to deal with it on his own. All his life he had heard his Dad talk about pacifism, about turning the other cheek, about how violence just begat more violence. Bumi was trying to be a good pacifist, but the situation didn’t seem to be getting better, in fact, it was getting worse.

Mostly Heng hadn’t hurt him; just intimidation, looming over him with his gang, cutting remarks about him or his family, an occasional shove here or there, or bending the ground under his feet to make him fall. But Bumi hated how Heng made him feel; hated how he now had to peek around corners to see if Heng was there before he felt comfortable to walk to his classes. He had started to arrive late to class after recess every day to avoid running into Heng. And this is how Katara found out about it.

Bumi’s teacher had contacted Katara about Bumi’s string of tardiness, and when Katara had confronted Bumi about it, he had spilled the bean, telling her everything about Heng and his gang and all of the bullying.

“I just… I want to be a good pacifist, Mom, but I don’t know what to do!”

Katara’s jaw had set as righteous indignation flared in her icy blue eyes – no one messes with my son! And she had brought him in, giving him some very practical advice… and some hand-to-hand practice to make sure he got it down.

And that’s how Bumi ended up in the principal’s office the next day; suspended, for breaking Heng’s nose. But of course it wouldn’t end there. The press had gotten news of the Avatar’s son’s violence at school, sending a kid to the hospital!, before Katara had even gotten home to Air Temple Island with Bumi in tow. That’s how Aang found out about it. He had been ambushed with questions from reporters as he left the City Counsel building on his way out to catch some lunch with Toph and Sokka. He had flown right home on his glider to make sure everyone was all right; and to find out what really happened.

“Fighting at school is bad enough! But then to find out that you told him to do it?! And taught him how?!” Aang’s look of disbelief would be almost comical; if it weren’t for the deadly serious glare his wife was giving him.

“And what would you have him do, Aang, huh?! Sit around, meditating on how non-violence is the solution to everything, just hoping that in his next life he’d grow a backbone?!”

Bumi watched as his father took a step back, shock and hurt flashing on his face before his brow settled down in an angry line. Everyone knew that only the Avatar had next lives… (Well, at least everyone knew that at least he does; nobody really knows what happens to everyone else…)

“Are you really talking about… are you really talking about me, Katara? You have a problem with my views on non-violence?”

“Maybe I do, Aang! Maybe I’m furious that our son has been bullied for weeks now, because he’s afraid to stand up for himself. Afraid that he won’t be a good Air Nomad, a good pacifist, if he stops bad people from doing bad things; believes that he needs to just lay down in surrender…”

“I never told him he had to lay down and take it. That’s never been what pacifism is about.”

“Isn’t it, Aang? I grew up in a tribe of warriors! In my heart I’ve always been a fighter; ever since my mom was…” Katara trailed off, lost in memory for a moment, before snapping back to the present. “So after that I wouldn’t take it anymore; not from Sokka, or from Pakku, or Zuko or Azula or anyone! And I’ve changed the world for it Aang! I’ve changed my world, for the better, through fighting against anyone that would hold me down. And your pacifism,” she spat the word, “is only teaching our kids not to stand up for themselves!”

With that she turned on her heel and, fists balled angrily, began to stomp out of the room. But before she could go, a gust of wind slammed the door shut, closing off her retreat. She turned around looking at Aang first with shock and then with doubled fury.

“How dare you?! You think you can just…? Aang, you let me out right now!”

In answer Aang grounded his stance and pumped his fist in the air, bringing a solid rock doorstop up from the floor, further barring the door and locking them in the room. Bumi brought his knees up to his chest, looking anxiously, and excitedly from one parent to the other. He had rarely seen his parents quarrel; on most days Katara enjoyed the benefits of a peaceful, non-confrontational husband; one who generally gave her whatever she wanted, almost happily losing every argument. But this was different, something Bumi had never witnessed, and despite the tiny part of him that was nervous, he was mostly just eager to see how this would play out!

“You want me to grow a backbone?! Well be careful what you ask for, Katara…”

Katara looked at the rock pike now jutting through her living room floor and trapping her in the room with surprise. Then she let out an angry growl, pulling the water from the large floor pot in the corner of the room that held their tall bamboo stalks, and turned to face Aang, the water wrapping up her arms in challenge.

Bumi clenched a pillow from the sofa as he watched with a mixture of concern and eagerness as his parents faced off. But as real worry began to slowly sink into his stomach, his Dad shot him a quick look, a sly wink with a quick conspiratorial smile that both surprised and baffled Bumi. What?!

Katara clenched her teeth, “you let me out right now, Aang!”

But Aang just replied with a sassy, “why don’t you make me?”

In an instant, Katara struck out with a long whip of water that made an angry snap right where Aang’s face had been a moment before; but Aang had dodged, turning swiftly from the spot. Katara didn’t let up, and soon more than one piece of furniture was wet and the bamboo in the corner ended up decapitated by a stray ice shard; however, each time Katara struck out, Aang dodged, dancing around the room in spiral motions, almost effortlessly twirling away from each of Katara’s aggressive blows.

With each dodge Katara got more frustrated and infuriated, leading to angrier and more frantic attacks. All the vases in the room lay on their sides, floral contents spilled out as Katara had indignantly pulled all of their water into her fight with Aang. Aang never struck back, never even bent any elements, but gradually circle-walked his way closer to her, until with a quick duck and a double-back, he was behind her, one hand vertical on her spine.

Katara let out a huff of frustration and turned quickly, lashing out with her elbow to clock him in the head, but Aang ducked under her elbow and caught Katara’s other hand as she swung around, and, keeping her momentum spinning, he quickly grabbed the sash-belt from his waist and wrapped it around her captured wrist. Moving with her to keeping her spinning, Aang ribboned the belt around her body until it bound both of her arms tight at her sides. Aang stood behind her, synching the belt snugly around her, and pulling her back flush to his body.

Then with some air-bending enhanced breath, he blew her hair off her neck to gently place a kiss there. She let out an angry growl, but despite her grit teeth, some of the fight in her clearly evaporated as her stance un-stiffened.

“Come on, Katara” Aang purred as he placed one hand on her shoulder and kissed his way up to her ear, “don’t you know that non-violence doesn’t mean non-action? Out maneuvering an opponent by being quick or clever is absolutely encouraged, and conflict, when it comes, is met with evasion until the opponent can be immobilized. No need to harm anyone, but that doesn’t mean we lay down and welcome defeat either.”

Katara’s body further relaxed as she tilted her head, giving Aang better access to her neck.

Bumi sat stunned. He was not entirely sure he understood all of what he had just witnessed, but Bumi marveled that he had somehow watched his father win a fight without throwing a single blow. His parents seemed to have forgotten he was even there. And now they were kissing, yuck! Bumi made a gagging sound and pulled the pillow over his face.

“I guess you’re right, Aang…” Katara sighed seductively, “quick, clever, unexpected… all excellent methods to throw an opponent off guard in a conflict…” Then she turned to face him, bringing her lips up to his, his hold on her restraint releasing as he eagerly brought his hands up to her face and moved keenly into the kiss.

But while he was totally engrossed in their kiss, Katara lifted her knee and then stamped down hard on his foot, evoking a yowl from him as he grabbed his foot and hopped over to the nearest chair to sit down, hissing in pain; Katara smirking all the while.

“But don’t forget the value of getting one good hit in either.”

………….


	2. Culture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I picture this happening in the same world as my other fic Wedges of Ice and Air, but you certainly don’t have to have read that one to understand this one. This is pretty strait forward =)
> 
> Please leave a comment. I want to hear what you think!

“Aang!”

Katara blushed crimson, tucking her hair behind her ear as she turned to hide her burning face from him. “Aang, we would never say that!”

Aang looked at her unapologetically, a smirk quirking on one side of his face. “But all the words were correct, weren’t they?”

The two were visiting her Father’s home in the Southern Water Tribe. Katara was cooking a stew over the central fire in the small round common space used for cooking, eating, and as a gathering area for the family. Aang had been helping, using his firebending to keep the coals hot enough to keep the soup at a low simmer without going cold in the frigid arctic winter night. The two were recently engaged and spending time in the South to plan the wedding.

“Correct or not, we just wouldn’t say something like that! Where did you even learn those words, Aang?!” Looking back towards her Father’s bedroom door and lowering her voice even more, “And you better not let my Father hear you or he might rescind his blessing!” Although that last part was said with a smirk of her own.

“I’m just trying out some new vocabulary. How will I ever learn if I don’t put the words into practice?” Aang questioned with mock-seriousness.

Aang had been working on speaking the Southern Water Tribe dialect, a language unique to just her tribe. Throughout the world there was a common language that all four nations spoke, but in addition each nation had their own languages as well (many even having sub-dialects based on region). These national dialects generally didn’t have any modern written language (with the exception of the Air Nomads who had their own unique writing; although perhaps at this point that could no longer be considered modern… despite it still feeling so to Aang). Therefore the common language was used for most written communication, and subsequently also was what was taught in most schools. But the local dialects were what was spoken in the homes and in the villages. And with the end of the war, Aang had worked to learn many of these dialects, particularly Katara’s mother tongue.

“Come on, Katara” Aang scooted closer to where she was kneeling stirring the soup, “I’m just trying to ‘join the tribe’; after all, I will be marrying into the Southern Water Tribe next month, eh?” Then he leaned in and whispered something else into her ear.

Katara pulled back, looking at him with wide, shocked eyes. “Aang! Really! Where are you hearing these things?!” Katara’s cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red, but she couldn’t hold back the smile that threatened at the corners of her mouth.

Aang let out a hearty laugh. “I learned that one from Sokka!”

Despite his current abuse of her language, Katara had to admit that Aang had learned a lot and in a short period of time. He understood most all of what was said in the village by now, and could participate in most conversations without much of a hitch. He still spoke with a little bit of a foreign lilt in his tone, but Katara actually found his accent… well, pretty sexy (although she wouldn’t admit that to him. His head was big enough already!)

Aang really did have a gift for learning languages. Some of that may have come from early exposure – as a nomad, Aang had traveled much of the world as a child, learning bits of most of the major dialects. Although some of his phrases were outdated by now, having learned them over a hundred years ago, the foundations were there. With how quickly he had learned her language, Katara teased him that his past lives must be cheating to help him without any real effort.

In turn, Katara had made a valiant effort to learn his language as well, the Air Nomad language, but had not made as much progress as she wished. She admitted that the sounds were difficult for her to distinguish and her mouth seemed unable to make the tones come out quite right. But Aang was encouraging, and it meant a lot to him that she would even try. “I mean, its not like it’s a super… *useful* language these days…” Aang had tried to joke, although the clear undertone of sadness behind the words just made her heart ache. But she continued her efforts, and although her progress was limited, she was learning.

“Well Sokka should be ashamed of himself! Corrupting the innocent…” she winked at him and leaned in for a smiling kiss.

“Yes, I’m completely innocent,” he kissed her back.

After a long indulgent moment, Aang pulled back from their kiss and looked at her with his big puppy-dog eyes, making her laugh as she shook her head. “I’ve learned a few more phrases…” a glint of mischief sparkling in his eyes, “from the sailors down at the port; but when I asked Sokka what they meant, he just snorted and said I better ask you…”

Katara blushed again, and Aang laughed.

“…but he suggested I wait until after we’re married.”

………………


	3. Weakness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This one does not fit into my Wedges of Ice and Air fic. It’s a bit of a beast of its own. Anyway, hope you enjoy the angst!

“Please! I’ll do anything!”

He was on his knees, staff carelessly dropped behind him before he had stumbled several steps forward and then fallen to his knees. The flickering lights of torches held in menacing hands danced harshly on the walls of the old wooden structure. Everything outside of the flicker of the yellow flames was black; black like the darkness he felt within himself now, great jaws of dread opening wide, ready to swallow him alive.

“Please!” he begged again, “Where is she?! You have to give her back to me!”

The boy was young still, not more than seventeen, maybe eighteen. And his Love just days before had shared the earth-shatteringly good news that he was going to be a father! They had been married just a year, and now they were going to be parents! Despite all the nervous unknowns that the thought of parenthood dangled anonymously in his future, the boy couldn’t help but yelp for joy and smile with a grin so large he felt his soul might split. He had spun her around and around and then held her like his last hope while he wept with joy. 

But now he was here. About to lose them both. He wept now as well, but not with joy, rather with the awful dread of losing everything, again. He was broken, at the mercy of men who cared nothing for him or her, not even knowing of their unborn child. 

He tried again, “Please! At least show her to me,” and then screaming in desperation, “I need to know she’s alright!”

The man looming above him, his face in shadow, nodded soundlessly to a man by the door. And she was brought in, gagged and bound, dragged by two men on either side of her, barely allowing for her toes to skim the floor. The boy’s eyes darted to the shoulder of her dress where it had been ripped open revealing too much of her beautiful brown skin for all these ugly eyes to see. And he felt rage snarl inside of him. 

“Katara! Did they hurt you? I swear if they touched you I’ll destroy them all!” Such words felt like acid on the tongue of this gentle boy raised by monks. But he meant them. Every word.

“Tsk, tsk Avatar” the shadowy man spoke for the first time, “such threats might make us… less negotiable. Remember my promise to you. One step out of line, and I break her pretty neck before you can call out her name.”

Aang had returned to their inn in the tiny village earlier tonight, to an empty room torn apart in some earlier struggle. Downstairs the innkeeper’s throat had been slit, a note demanding the Avatar’s complete compliance curled in the old man’s dead fingers.

The note said they knew his Weakness. And she wouldn’t be harmed… unless he didn’t come before midnight, and if he didn’t come alone. 

Aang had rushed out, snapping his glider open and soaring into the dark night. They were in far too remote a place – there was no one for Aang to contact here, nor would he have risked doing so, not with a threat to Katara pried from the cold dead fingers of their host.

Aang tore his eyes from Katara to regard the man who held their futures in his uncaring hands. Why had he done nothing to Aang? No ambush, no restraints, no chains… they’d even let him walk in there armed with his staff. He was the most powerful man in the world, the Avatar, and yet he was at their mercy. At first Aang thought this man must be crazy, a gambler. But as he looked at the cold lucid but intelligent eyes of this man, Aang knew that he had gambled nothing. He knew exactly how this would go. And he held all the cards.

“What do you want from me?”

“I need you to retrieve something for me. From the Spirit World. Something stolen from the mortal world hundreds of life-times ago… But it belongs here. And I want it back.”

Katara’s eyes were on him, desperately trying to tell him something. Aang felt weak. He simply could not lose her! 

“I’ll do whatever you want…”

“Yes. I know.”

……………


	4. Breathe

Prompt: Breathe

Today was the day, and Aang could hardly believe it!

Right now Aang sat literally on the edge of his seat, holding the hand of his Dearest Love, the woman of his dreams, as she labored to bring their first child (his child!) into the world.

Aang looked at Katara with absolutely unadulterated adoration. Her hair was a piled mess on the top of her head, sweat was glistening on her skin from her hours of labor, and she grimaced in exertion and exhaustion; and Aang had never seen her look more beautiful! He lovingly brushed the hair back from her forehead as he praised her.

"You're doing amazing, Katara!"

It was as if she hadn't even heard him. She was so focused, every thought turned inward as she did her best to cope.

"Breathe, Sweetie. Don't forget to breathe."

Aang found himself breathing with her, exaggerated inhales and exhales that left him the tiniest bit light-headed. Or maybe that was just the excitement! Aang was so excited he could hardly sit; as it was he kept shifting on the edge of his chair, hovering over Katara, dabbing her forehead with the wet cloth, periodically directing cool breezes toward her, and trying not to fully take in the magnitude of what was happening (I'm going to be a father!) in worry that he might just implode.

Aang certainly didn't feel prepared to be a father, but boy did he want to be one! Although only nineteen years old, he and Katara had been wanting to be parents ever since they were married over three years ago.

Shortly after Katara's sixteenth birthday, when he had been only fourteen years old, Aang had asked Chief Hakoda to marry Katara. He had known he wanted to marry her since he was twelve, and he saw no reason to wait. But Hakoda had laughed, clapping the boy jovially on the shoulder as he told him he needed to hold his ostrich-horses a little. Katara was sixteen, the legal marrying age in his Tribe, but Aang was still only fourteen. When Aang tried the whole "I'm technically 114 years old" tactic, Hakoda had just laughed louder and told him that, alas, they would have to wait.

So when Aang finally did turn sixteen, he and Katara wasted no time in getting married. And, wow! Marriage was the good life! He did not know that he could ever love Katara more than he already did, but being married, being together for real; he just didn't know if life could get any better!

The two of them did not have any plans to become parents right away per se; but they also weren't preventing it. And they spent ahem plenty of time in activities that might lead to a baby. So when six months had passed, with no pregnancy, Katara had remarked that she was a bit surprised. Aang didn't know much about any of this. All of the Air Nomad babies had been born in the Eastern and Western Temples where the nuns lived – male babies did not move to his temple or the Northern temple until they were three years old. So Aang's experience with babies and pregnancy and pretty much anything related was very limited.

He had been encouraged by the birth of baby Hope right after they had crossed the Serpent's Pass; but that was the closest thing he had had to any real experience with birth and babies. He remembered seeing that tiny baby, and how she had filled him with, well… hope. And how he felt like perhaps nothing could be so fresh and full of promise as a newborn baby. And although he hadn't thought much about any specifics at the time, he knew then that someday he wanted to be a dad.

Katara had a lot more of an understanding about these things than Aang did, so when their first wedding anniversary (best year of his life!) rolled around, and she still was not pregnant, Katara began to worry that perhaps there was something wrong.

Perhaps ignorance was bliss, because Aang was not concerned. "It will happen when it happens, Sweetie." Aang just continued to lavish Katara with love and do all he could to reassure her.

But as a year and three months, then a year and half rolled around, with still no pregnancy, Katara began to panic a little. She knew that the whole world was waiting with bated breath for news of a potential new airbender baby, and she got tired of fielding insensitive and invasive questions from friend and stranger alike. More than once Aang had held her in his arms as she cried, set off by some whoever asking her when she would finally start bringing balance to the four nations. The comments were sometimes in accusation, but even those made in jest or simply curiosity, hurt. Katara began to feel the burden of being married to the last airbender, and it was not easy for either of them.

Initially Katara consulted her Gran Gran, who gave her a recipe for a concoction of herbs known to increase fertility that had been passed down for generations in her Tribe. "Drink this daily in your morning tea, and you will have a baby in no time!" Gran Gran had assured her. But six months later, six months of daily choking down the terrible concoction, with no results, and Katara knew she needed to try something else.

Being who they were, privacy was hard to preserve. So when Katara began to make further inquiries about ways and methods of increasing fertility, she did so cautiously, and with great discretion. The last thing they wanted was the press to broadcast to the world something so private and painful. There were those who were already critical of Aang's choice in a bride, claiming that marrying a non-bender would have been a more practical decision if he wanted his children to be airbenders; so the last thing they wanted was for news to leak out that they were having trouble getting pregnant at all.

At one fertility clinic she visited, in their very own fledgling Republic City, the practitioner had recognized Katara (Aang hadn't even gone in an effort to maintain their anonymity). In a series of veiled statements, the woman had more or less threatened to let this information out to the public. Only after a slew of pleading words and a heavy red envelope filled with Earth Kingdom bills was slipped into her hand, did the woman promise to keep her lips sealed. The money Katara had brought to go towards fertility treatments instead became the price of silence.

The idea of a baby, that had once been a bright, optimistic hope for the future was becoming a burden for the couple. Affection between Katara and Aang had remained strong, and Aang was quick to reassure Katara at every opportunity, that he had no expectations, that he was happy as they were, and that there was no need to worry. That they were young, and had their whole lives ahead of them with plenty of time for babies in the future.

But it was clear that hunger for a baby had become a near obsession for Katara. Love making now had a clear purpose, and it saddened Aang that his expressions of love to Katara now came with such tangible measurements for success; resulting in pregnancy = success / no pregnancy = failure. What was once beautiful (and still was, really) was marred by expectation.

Aang began to dread "that time of the month" and not for the usual reasons; he wasn't worried that Katara would be moody or irritable. But he dreaded the agony of watching her fall to disappointed pieces every time her "red waters" came. Occasionally her cycle would be a day or two late, her hope rising; but then when it did come, the crushing disappointment seemed to be even worse, and Aang would just hold her while she sobbed and sobbed in his arms.

And although he never voiced his thoughts, in the back of his mind, Aang began to worry as well. What if they couldn't have children? Would he would be the last airbender. Ever? What would become of world balance? And if he and Katara failed to have children, who would teach his next reincarnation? And when the Avatar was due to be born an Airbender again… would the cycle be broken forever? These were troubling thoughts, and he did not indulge in them often. They felt like poison, and Aang was still optimistic. They really did have their whole lives ahead of them! It had only been a few short years. No need to worry yet!

So far, Water Tribe and Earth Kingdom treatments had failed them, so it was with trepidation and discretion that Aang one day quietly approached Zuko about their situation. For the most part, Katara and Aang had been very tight-lipped about this, even with their family and close friends. But when Aang tentatively asked Zuko if he was aware of any Fire Nation experts or treatments to aid in getting pregnant, Zuko replied as though he was not surprised at all. "Sure. Providing an heir has always been a big concern among Fire Nation royalty. Our family physician is probably the most versed expert in fertility treatments in the world. And I know how you would want to keep this quiet. So we'll come up with some reason for you and Katara to come to the Fire Nation, and you can consult with him then."

The Fire Lord's physician had seemed a bit cold, and pragmatic, but he was thorough, even testing Aang as well as Katara, stating that he didn't subscribe to the common assumption that these types of problems were always "the woman's fault". And after a few months of treatments, special diets and exercises for them both, Katara finally found herself pregnant! After three years of hoping, Aang and Katara were finally going to be parents!

The time right after discovering they were pregnant, was a joyful one for the pair. Their happiness and affection soared, and love-making abounded. Aang hadn't even been sure they were allowed to be together "that way" once Katara was pregnant, but he soon found out that Katara hungered for him more than ever. Despite some mild sickness early on, overall Katara felt great, and her pregnancy was a time of rejoicing and healing for them both. They felt more in love than ever. It was as though the innocence and brightness of their youth had been restored to them, and on most days they found that they simply could not stop smiling.

In the beginning, Katara thought it wise to keep her pregnancy hush-hush for a while. She knew of the higher chance of miscarriage early in a pregnancy, and she didn't want to make this public right away. But Aang couldn't seem to keep it in. The first time he saw Sokka after they found out the good news, he had meant to say, "Hi Sokka" but what had come out was "we're going to have a baby!" Katara had dropped her head into her hands, but he didn't get in too much trouble. I guess they were all just too happy to fight about it.

But Aang tried harder after that to keep their secret. Everyone could tell that Aang was happy (even happier than usual, that is). He had always been light on his feet, but now he practically hovered, bounding lightly from place to place. ("Get your dang feet on the ground, Twinkletoes; not knowing where you are is making me nervous!" Toph had admonished him on more than one occasion.)

Aang was so eager to share their news, that Katara had finally caved and given him permission to "shout it to the world" when she was ten weeks along. She told him she had wanted to wait until twelve weeks, but after watching him struggle almost painfully to contain such a marvelous secret for so long, she decided it was safe to put him out of his misery, and just let him tell.

The press went wild! Within days every corner of the world knew that the Avatar and his wife were expecting a baby. Of course rampant speculation about whether their baby would be an airbender was a hot topic; some believed that with all Air Nomad babies being born benders in the past, that this one was sure to be as well; but others argued that with Katara being from the Water Tribe, and a waterbender at that, that the baby's bending was not guaranteed.

Aang almost couldn't care less. Almost. It would be a lie to say that he didn't hope to one day (maybe very soon!) give up the title of being the Last Airbender. But he didn't worry much about it. Now he felt confident that he and Katara could have a whole slew of babies! One of them was bound to be an airbender… So the bending of this baby was not of top priority to him.

Katara and Aang had discussed possible names for their children, starting even before they were pregnant (quite possibly even before they were married, if they were honest). But now that their baby was really coming, they discussed it in earnest. In the end they decided that if the baby was a girl, they would name her Kya, after Katara's mother. And if the baby was a boy, they would name him Gyatso, after Aang's beloved mentor and father figure. When Aang thought about calling his son Gyatso, his throat would close up thick with emotion. It felt right to give the newest hope for his people's future the name of the man who had given Aang so much love. Like naming his son after his mentor could bridge the hundred-year gap that separated the Air Nomads from their future in this world, a future that could quite possibly begin with this baby growing in Katara's tummy.

Not long after discovering that they were pregnant, Aang had gotten into the habit of talking to Katara's belly, which had made Katara throw her head back in laughter and look at him with a new kind of affection in her eyes. Aang would often come home and kneel down to kiss her tummy and talk animatedly to their baby (mostly in his own native Air Nomad language ("gotta get our baby started learning early!")). Aang knew that Katara could only understand a little of what he said, but he almost preferred it that way; now he could tell their baby secrets, making plans for what they would do together when he or she finally came out!

And now, finally, the baby was ready to come! Aang and Katara had just moved to the island in Yue Bay. Aang hoped that one day he could build an Air Temple there, to make a place for his nation in this city of cultural fusion. But for now, they had to be content with the small house they had constructed on the island. Aang was disappointed that their house was so… low. Like all ancient cultures, the Air Nomads had had their fair share of superstitions; and the belief that it was good luck to deliver a baby in the highest tower in the temple was one of them. Katara had immediately shot down his suggestion that she deliver on their roof; so he would have to content himself with the top floor of their small two story home.

Reporters were waiting on boats down in the Bay; waiting to be the first to spread the news of the Avatar's firstborn child. Aang had forbidden them from coming onto the island, and a few Acolytes were on the docks now, ensuring that Aang and Katara could have this moment in peace and privacy. But Aang secretly was eager to tell them all when his son or daughter was born. He imagined himself, walking proudly down to the dock, baby tucked gingerly in his arms to show the Acolytes and let the whole world share in their joy.

The reporters had started to gather earlier that day. He wasn't sure exactly how they had gotten wind of the fact that Katara was in labor; perhaps someone had been watching her midwife, and when she came to the island, the reporters had been tipped off. Who knows? But even when he and Katara had still been walking the grounds, giving Katara a chance to walk between contractions and enjoy the open air, they could see the boats beginning to gather.

Aang had been so excited in those early hours of labor that he could hardly contain himself. More than once, Katara had seated herself for a moment and told him to go "run a lap" (an airbending enhanced run around the perimeter of the island) to get some of his pent-up energy out. He was just so excited, and so was Katara for that matter. Between contractions, they could not stop smiling in delight at the prospect of holding their baby today!

But as labor had gotten progressively harder, Katara had needed Aang's support more and more. And eventually, the two had gone inside, to their room upstairs. The midwife and her small team were waiting for them there, as well as Katara's Gran Gran.

Gran Gran had delivered nearly all the babies in the South Pole over the last fifty years, and Katara had wanted her to deliver her baby as well; but Gran Gran had encouraged them to hire a professional. She claimed that she was getting too old ("Spirits-forbid I should drop the baby!"). But she was here as support, and as an extra expert on hand.

Katara was laboring hard now, gritting her teeth and pushing when the contractions came. The contractions now were so close together that she hardly had a moment to catch her breath. Aang looked at his wife lovingly, one hand grasped hard in Katara's vice-like grip, the other brushing her hair from her face. "I love you, Katara! You can do this! You both can do this! Breathe, just breathe."

And then it was happening! Sneaking a peak, Aang could see a tuft of the baby's black hair. And then, another screaming push later, and there he was! Suddenly out, all wet and beautiful and a… a… baby! He didn't know what he was expecting (of course he's a baby!), but for some reason Aang was surprised to see how complete he was; two legs, two arms, a full head of dark hair. His son. Gyatso! Aang had yelped with joy and kissed Katara, congratulating her on the most miraculous thing he had ever seen!

But he soon realized that he seemed to be the only one rejoicing. When he looked across to to Gran Gran on Katara's other side, her mouth was a tight grim line; she seemed to be listening for something that wasn't there.

All of the sudden there was a flurry of motion. The midwife rushing his son over to the table set up at the other side of the room, unwrapping the cord from his neck while she went, her assistants all rushing around frantically to help.

He didn't know what was going on, but he could sense the panic in the room, and a deep sense of dread began to settle in his stomach. The women were all talking at once, barking commands and clarifying instructions. But there was a stark absence of a sound they had all been waiting for. Gyatso. There was no baby cry.

Aang was stunned. There he stood frozen, looking toward the flurry of women working urgently on his son, but unable to move from his spot. The Air Nomads had believed that a child didn't have a soul until it took its first breath. All he could think was breathe, baby, breathe!

He felt something grab his hand; looking down he saw Katara lying on the bed, looking exhausted, wet hair matted over the right side of her face; fear haunting her features. "Aang! What's going on? Where is my baby!?"

The whole room seemed to hold its breath. Everyone waiting for that cry. Aang stumbled away from Katara and over towards the table where the women were working on his son. Some great dread slithered into him as he approached. Looking over the shoulders of the working women, he saw him. Gyatso. His son. Blue and unmoving.

He looked back at Katara, stricken. He couldn't speak. She just watched, eyes large, breath held. Waiting. Like they all were.

Please baby, just breathe!

Aang didn't know how long he stood there. It felt like eternity. Eventually, the wizened midwife turned to him, apology blanketing her features. She said something. Aang couldn't seem to hear her. He was still waiting, bated breath, for his son to make a sound. The woman took hold of his arm and spoke again. "I'm sorry, Avatar. But the baby didn't make it…"

For a long moment Aang just stood there, uncomprehending. Until something broke inside him. As tears began to stream down his face, Aang shouldered his way forward to the table. One of the women had wrapped the motionless baby in a blanket. Hands trembling, Aang picked up his son. He was so tiny; tiny and perfect. Perfect little lips: just like his mom's. A perfect little nose and peaceful brow above his closed eyelids. He had big ears that stuck out prominently, just like Aang's. One tiny, perfect hand poked out from the blanket by his face.

Suddenly Aang swung around frantic. "Katara!" his mouth could hardly force her name from his throat. "Katara! You've got to heal him! Please! I know you can save our baby!"

Grief driving him to madness, Aang stumbled toward the bed. "Please, Katara! You brought me back to life; I know you can do the same for our son! I can fly to the North Pole. I can get water from the…" but he couldn't finish as he collapsed into the chair, his expression crumpling in anguish as he rocked their dead baby in his arms, sobs bursting from him.

Gran Gran put her hand on his shoulder. Then taking the baby from him, she wrapped their boy again, and put him in the arms of his mother. Katara sat staring strait ahead. It was as if her grasp on where she was had slipped. Until eventually she slowly turned her gaze to the lifeless child in her arms. Then one long low wail grew from deep inside her, and Katara shook with a wracking silent sob.

Aang looked at his wife; this woman he loved more than anything in the world. And he rose to sit next to her on the bed. Then lifting her in his arms, he wrapped a blanket around her and pulled her into his lap. Rocking slowly, he cradled her while she cradled their lost son.

"Breathe, Katara. Breathe."

….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm sorry for this. I cried while I wrote it.
> 
> I guess I've always thought it odd that Aang and Katara only had three kids. And I also thought they probably would have named one of their sons after Gyatso. So here is my head-cannon on some of the trouble they had having children, and on the son that they did name Gyatso. (yes, yes, I know the creators named him after the Dalai Lama who is named Tenzin Gyatso, but I don't mean the creators, I mean Aang and Katara =)


	5. Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a companion piece to the last one, “Breathe”

Prompt: Morning

..................

The days following the stillbirth of their son were hell for Aang.

To this day he is not sure how he made it through them. Thank the spirits for Gran Gran and the Acolytes, who helped Aang and Katara make basic decisions like: eat today. 

The evening of Gyatso’s delivery was now a blur. When Aang looks back on it, most of what he can remember is the intensity of emotion. The details of what actually happened eclipsed by their utter devastation.

At some point Gran Gran had stepped in to take Gyatso from Katara. At first Katara had bared her teeth in a mindless growl, clutching the cold baby to her desperately. But Gran Gran had been firm, getting Katara to look her in the eyes, bringing her back to reality. “I need to take him, Katara. He is Quiet. And we need to get you cleaned up.” 

Katara, still in Aang’s arms on his lap, had stared down at her empty hands for some time. Then she had turned to Aang and clutched him, letting him fill her arms in a way that he knew was entirely inadequate, but was all they could do. Aang knew that despite his utter heartache, he needed to be there for Katara, as much as he was capable.

He doesn’t know all of what else happened that night. A bath. Change of clothes. The midwives cleaned up and left. Someone changed their sheets and left the room looking like nothing had happened there; like they hadn’t just birthed a dead child.

At one point they had heard a lot of noise down by the dock. Aang supposed that news of their tragedy had probably made it to the reporters. He supposed it couldn’t remain private forever. But something about this very personal loss being spoken on the lips of strangers left Aang with a hollow feeling; like people were scooping out his innards and putting them on display. He and Katara had not even spoken the words out loud to each other, and yet somewhere their son’s death was making headlines. 

Each of the nations had a different word for it: Quiet Birth, Breathless Child, Cold Baby, Stillbirth. But they all meant the same thing; and their son lay quiet, breathless, cold and still in the room next door. 

Early the next morning Aang had woken to an empty bed. When he found Katara she was standing barefoot in the next room, the nursery, holding her belly and looking at the body of their son. He had been laid in the baby bassinet Sokka and Suki had given them as an early baby gift. 

“I’m afraid I won’t remember what he looks like…”

Aang had come to her, wrapping her in his arms, both of them looking at Gyatso, tears flowing as they desperately tried to commit him to memory.

Katara did not leave the house for the three days leading up to the funeral. She was dealing with a myriad of additional complications piled onto her grief. She had just delivered a baby, and her body was weak and in pain. But there was no soft warm baby snuggling against her to ease the recovery, to make it all worth it. Her body was prepared to feed a hungry infant, but there was no hunger to satiate, and so she was left with the pain of milk with no mouth to feed. Her emotions were everywhere. Everyone understood. Everyone understood, and no one could fix it.

Aang tried to be with her as much as he could, but being indoors wound up his anxieties like a spring. He often found himself escaping to the rooftop for a moment, just to feel the breeze on his skin, letting it dry his tears. He hardly noticed when he was crying anymore; it would be a more notable event when he was not crying.

Aang mourned, not just the loss of his baby, but he mourned the future that his son would never have. He mourned his empty arms, but also the games that would never be played together, the words they could never exchange, the sunny days they would never share. Perhaps one day they would have another child, but that would never give Gyatso his life again. And this weighed on Aang like a fetter.

Someone had arranged the funeral. Gran Gran, or Hakoda? He didn’t know. Katara had wanted it to be a Water Tribe funeral. Aang had not protested.

They had floated on a ship out into the great ocean off of Yue Bay. Their closest family and loved ones accompanying them. After some words, Gyatso’s tiny body, back on a board and mummy-wrapped entirely in furs, had been placed in the water. A weight attached to the board had pulled him slowly down into the endless depths, and he was gone. 

Aang had looked away repulsed. How could they do that to him?! As an Air Nomad, he wanted to fly, not be sunk in the sea. The very thought made him feel desperate and claustrophobic. Katara had spoken of making a rock ring for him, down in the South Pole near her mother’s. Aang couldn’t pay attention. He was wishing he hadn’t come on this boat. He wanted to be anywhere else. 

As soon as they had docked the boat, Aang had snapped his glider open and flown to the house. He had gathered his brass bowl, ink, brush, and papyrus paper in a satchel and flow to the top of the peak on the island. There he had written with long sad strokes his prayers on the papyrus and burned them to the sky as an offering honoring his son. Watching as the burned bits of consecrated paper danced away, upward on the wind.

Aang contemplated what the Air Nomads had believed, that the soul of a child did not enter until they took their first breath. But Gyatso had never taken his first breath. So did that mean he was forever soulless? That he had never really been? As much as Aang had disliked the water tribe burial in the sea, he knew that Air Nomads had actually cared little for disposal of the body; they had a ceremony for it, of course, but all knew that what really mattered was the soul. The soul was sent into the skies in a flurry of color and music. But according to his culture, his son didn’t even have a soul.

Aang tried to understand, but he could not reconcile this. He had felt his boy move in Katara’s belly, had been kicked by his strong little legs when Aang had embraced his mother, his baby had responded to his voice. Aang had loved his son. Surely his son had had a soul. 

If the Air Nomad teachings had been wrong about this; what else had they been wrong about? Aang felt like his faith was unraveling like a woven meditation shawl pulled apart by the wrong stray string; his beliefs feeling loose and scattered like a strand of prayer beads broken, the wooden beads rolling in every direction. What could he hold on to now? 

Aang believed his son had had a soul. But where had his soul gone? To the Eternal Skies with all the other Air Nomads? Or to the Immortal Ocean? Wherever he had gone, Aang wanted to follow him. To make sure he was alright. To protect his boy. Aang had often resented being the Avatar, but losing his baby made him hate it for one more reason. Aang knew where he would go when he died; he would be reborn into some new identity somewhere in the Water Tribe. He would never get to follow his Gyatso, never get to find out where his son had gone; he would never be reunited with him. He would not even remember him. Aang cursed his own endless lives. 

For all his power, he felt powerless.

As he watched the scorched bits rising and flowing on the wind, Aang hoped that in the Eternal Skies perhaps Monk Gyatso had found his son; maybe now they were making fruit pies together. At least, Aang hoped so. It would be fitting for his son Gyatso to be with the man he was named after.

The days following the baby’s funeral were a dark time for Aang. Up until then he had managed to hold himself together somewhat, for Katara. But as he dealt with this loss, and his own crisis of faith, he seemed to spiral downward. He could still be dragged out of that black place momentarily, when Katara needed him. But most of time he was despondent.

Aang forgot to shave. He barely could bring himself to eat. Meditation was fruitless, and even his usual endless store of energy seemed drained dry. His footsteps were heavier than they had ever been. Aang didn’t want to see people who came to the island. He stopped responding to hawks; didn’t even read the scrolls they carried. The world would just have to take care of itself. 

He remembered that one day a reporter had come to the door, pad of paper in hand, wanting to talk with the Avatar and his wife about their loss. Gran Gran had opened the door, and told the reporter to go away. Aang had been in the room, a short fuzz of black hair on his head and stubble on his chin, looking undoubtedly disheveled. He had locked eyes with the reporter for just a moment. In some distant sort of way, Aang was disgusted; disgusted that someone would come here, to his home, to pry into their private matters. But anger was more than he could muster for such a meaningless person. So Aang had looked away uncaring.

One night, in bed, Katara had pulled him close, peppering his skin with kisses. She spoke quietly, but earnestly, begging him to make her another baby. His brow furrowed. He didn’t want another baby; he wanted Gyatso. He had turned away from her. He couldn’t. Not now. He could not start that agonizing road again. He remembered more clearly than he wished the years of disappointment trying to make their last baby. And he was not ready to deal with that again.

Aang knew that he had hurt Katara; that his rejection that night stung her like a lash. But knowing he had hurt her just depressed him more. On top of the grief he now had guilt. Why couldn’t he be better than he was? Deep inside, Aang was sure he would never escape this dark place he was drowning in.

But it was little things that eventually helped him reemerge.

After the loss, one of the Acolytes had offered to feed Appa for Aang. Gran Gran had let her, but as time went on, being the wise woman she was, Gran Gran had told the girl it was time for Aang to feed his own bison again. So twice daily, Aang had to get up and go out to feed his sky bison. There was something so simple about it. Appa needed him. He was hungry. When Aang came, Appa was happy to see him, nuzzling his friend with an oddly understanding empathy. After a while Aang began to talk to his friend again, telling him things, even some of his most horrible thoughts. Appa never judged him. Just snorted hot air into his clothes and licked his hair into a lopsided mess. And in those moments Aang began feel a little lighter.

He and Katara had been living together, doing their best to support one another, but in all honestly Gran Gran had been the one keeping them from falling to pieces. Neither of them quite able to be what the other needed. 

But one evening, after returning from Appa’s courtyard, Aang found Katara in the nursery, rocking in the chair, looking out with unseeing eyes at the darkening evening sky across the bay. Aang had approached her and put his hand on her shoulder. Katara had looked up at him with her beautiful blue eyes. And something stirred in him. A feeling he had lost touch with. And like a wave Aang was suddenly filled with it. Pulling her up into a tight embrace Aang let his love for her wash over him like high tide.

They both had cried together. It was not the first time they had done so, but something was different this time. Like they were finally seeing each other again.

They made love that night. Not trying to make a baby, not trying to escape. No ulterior motive than to show one another that they were there for the other, and that they loved each another.

And from then on, they both tried a little harder. They tried to be available for one another again. And Aang was surprised by Katara’s incredible strength. She was the one who really pulled him back from the darkness; she was the one who helped him wholly back into the light.

This loss was really something that only the two of them shared fully. Others had been near to support and mourn with them, to share in their grief. But Gyatso had been their son. Their long awaited beacon. He had been their hope for the future. And overcoming this together, helping one another to cope, to move forward, to let go of the pain, truly solidified their union in a singular and powerful way. Like muscles that are tested and torn, they came back stronger and more solid.

Aang remembered the first time they had really laughed again. He didn’t remember what had been so funny, but he remembered the radiance on Katara’s face, the way her early morning hair had glowed around the edges in the sunshine from the window, and her eyes had sparkled at him. And his heart had expanded for her, fuller than it could hold. Come what may, he wanted to be with this woman every day of his life.

As life began to be a life again, the two decided to leave baby making alone for a time. If it happened, it happened, and of course they would rejoice. But they wanted to focus on just being together, just doing what they loved, and giving themselves some time.

But in the end they were both ready sooner than they expected. Aang remembered, apart from the pain, the beauty of Gyatso; he had been so small and perfect. And they had made him together. It was no disservice to his memory to want another baby.

Deep down Aang had hoped that already having gotten pregnant once would somehow jump-start the whole process for them, making the next pregnancy easier to accomplish. But as the months rolled on, and they did not get pregnant spontaneously, they decided it was time they return to the Fire Nation to work with the Fire Lord’s physician again.

One of their evenings while living at the Palace, while Zuko and Aang sat together sharing tea, Zuko had confided in Aang that Mai had actually been pregnant twice before they finally had Izumi. Both pregnancies had terminated early on, but it had been a difficult time for them. Aang had never known. No one knew. But Zuko had chosen to share it with Aang. Because he knew he could understand. Words are so often inadequate; but when someone lives through something like that, sharing in a similar grief, no words are needed. There is just understanding.

Aang knew the day that Katara suspected she was pregnant. Of course he knew it was possible, but he had tried not to get too involved in the day counting and cycle mapping – he felt it added too much pressure so he didn’t involve himself in keeping track. But that day Katara had shone, trying to hide her smile like she knew the punch line to some secret joke no one else had figured out yet. Aang, never one able to resist a good secret, had finger-walked along her waist, pulling her against him and nibbled her ear making her laugh. “Come on, Katara. I know you’re hiding something from me…” She had laughed again and kissed him soundly. “Perhaps, Papa, it is time to leave the Fire Nation now!”

Like last time, their days of pregnancy were filled with joy. Although this time there was a small apprehensive undertone that stalked the outskirts of their joy -- a niggling worry that perhaps they would lose this baby too. But for the most part, Aang and Katara rejoiced in their coming child. They trying hard not to let past sorrow mar their anticipation. Their midwife had told them that Gyatso’s death had been an unfortunate tragedy, but it had been no one’s fault. In her opinion, there was no reason to suspect that something like that would happen again. 

They chose names again: if a girl, she would be Kya, of course; for a boy they decided on Bumi. At first Katara had been a little reticent about naming their son after the crazy old King of Omashu. But when she realized the depth of how much it mean to Aang, she was happy to acquiesce. Although now the unbelievable age of one hundred and twenty years old, King Bumi was still kicking, and Aang’s attachment to the man was stronger than Katara had realized. With the exception of Appa, Bumi was Aang’s one living connection to his childhood. Bumi had lived when the Air Nomads were still around; perhaps he would even see them return…

They had debated a bit on where to birth the baby. The South Pole had been considered, but frankly it was just too cold, even in summer. Of course women who lived there had their babies there, and Katara had grown up there so she should be used to it, but now, having been away for so many years, even Katara found the cold uncomfortable. Given the choice? She preferred to deliver in a warmer climate. They had also considered an Air Temple, most likely Aang’s home temple in the South. Aang liked the idea of being so high, but ultimately they felt it was too remote. What if something happened? They would be at least a day’s flight away from anywhere and simply inaccessible for anyone to come to them. So in the end they had decided to stay at the island in Yue Bay.

Originally both Aang and Katara felt a little uncomfortable with delivering their second baby in the same place their first had died. But it was Toph who came in with a level head stating frankly that they were “being complete idiots” and that “bad things happened but it’s not the damn place’s fault”. So they had decided to deliver at home again.

Aang had wanted to build another story to their house, for the sole purpose of being closer to the sky; but Katara had called him a superstitious airhead and shot down the idea. She would be fine in their room on the second floor. Aang had bashfully agreed, but also jokingly promised to one day build a soaring tower on that island for her to deliver all the rest of their babies in!

By the time Katara was nearing time for delivery, it had been two years since Gyatso’s birth and five years since they had gotten married. The two were more than impatient to finally, finally be parents.

Unlike last time when Katara’s labor had started in the morning and lasted all day, her delivery ending in the evening, this time Katara was woken in the dark hours of the night, not long after the pair had gone to bed. Unbeknownst to Aang, Katara had labored for some time alone, not wanting to disturb him. But as the contractions became difficult to breathe through and knowing that the midwife would need some time to arrive, Katara had finally woken Aang and asked him to send for her.

After two seconds of grogginess, Aang had shot to his feet, instantly awake. “What?! Now!!?” He had speed-ran to the dormitory to wake Ling, one of his most trusted Acolytes, asking her to take Appa and go for the midwife. Then he had speed-ran back to his wife’s side, startling her with his sudden reappearance.

“Aang! For crying out loud! You scared me.”

“I’m sorry, Katara. I can’t help it. I’m just so… well wound up. I can’t tell if I’m excited or just anxious.” A shadow of uncertainly clouded in his eyes. He sat by her side, and carefully took her hands in his, “Do you… do you think its going to be okay this time?”

Katara had to wait through a contraction before she could respond, but when she felt reprieve again, she turned her clear blue eyes on him, and breathing hard she admitted, “I don’t know… but I hope so…”

Gran Gran, who had moved in with them as Katara’s delivery approached, came in looking groggy and a bit grumbly. “I’ve never figured out why babies so often decide that the middle of the night is the best time to come into the world!” 

Things progressed quickly, far quicker than with Katara’s first birth. Aang had expected hours of walking the island or massaging Katara’s back, but by the time Katara had woken anyone up, things were already in fast motion. Before he knew it, Katara was sweating hard and resisting the urge to push. Gran Gran took charge, getting Katara into position and barking orders to Aang, who was so nervous and excited he could hardly think strait. The midwife isn’t even here yet! He thought as panic began to flit furiously in his stomach. 

“The blanket, Aang! The blanket! Bring it to me.” Gran Gran ordered.

Aang fought to keep his wits amid his concern, pulling himself together to do as Gran Gran ordered. The sky outside was just beginning to lighten as Katara began to push, gritting her teeth, and breathing hard in sporadic intervals. Aang allowed Katara to strangle his arm with both of her hands while his other arm supported her around her back. 

“The baby is coming, Katara Darling…” Gran Gran had coaxed, “Just one more good push.”

The great battle cry of women, the same one heard since the beginning of time, escaped Katara’s lips, the sound hanging in the air. And then the baby appeared, dark haired and ruddy, caught carefully in Gran Gran’s withered, experienced hands. A long moment passed. Aang feeling that he would suffocate in the silence.

And then a long, emphatic baby cry broke the air. 

A sob burst from Aang’s chest; he was sure that he had never heard a sound more beautiful than that baby cry! In that moment he could see why the Air Nomad’s had put such importance on that first breath – his child’s soul had arrived, and it was here to stay. He looked on in wonder and gratitude so immense he felt he would burst. There was his baby, his son, Bumi!, wiggling and screaming in Gran Gran’s hand as she wrapped him expertly in the blanket.

Aang looked at Katara, she was crying too. And he kissed her, brushing her hair lovingly off her forehead, praising her, telling her what an amazing job she had done! She just sobbed louder, crying with all the gratitude of a mother who had waited years to hear that baby cry, and now could not believe that she finally had!

But Gran Gran kept her wits about her, her mind on the needs at hand; there would be time to fall apart with joy later. “Aang. Get over here. I need you to hold the baby...”

Aang rushed over and gingerly took his wiggling son from Gran Gran, keeping him low while Gran Gran cut the cord. One red leg with toes spread wide had kicked its way out from the white blanket, and Bumi was screaming heartily. As Gran Gran turned back to her work, Aang stood and stared in wonder at his child. He wanted to speak to him; welcome him to the world. But he couldn’t find his voice. His awe nearly stopping his breath altogether.

Aang’s eyes widened in amazement, lovingly roaming over the beautiful creature in his hands, so tiny, and absolutely perfect! His mess of dark hair, his tiny fists punching the air, his one little leg that had escaped from the blanket kicking tenaciously.

Carefully Aang rewrapped Bumi, pulling that rogue leg back inside the blanket as he gently brought their baby over to where Katara sat. Happy tears streaming down her cheeks, her arms outstretched to hold their son even before Aang was within reach. 

As Aang sat down next to Katara, carefully placing Bumi in her arms, a sudden burst of morning sunlight shone from over the mountain peaks in the East. Aang smiled as he watched Katara cradle their son, her long-empty arms finally filled. As their hungry son’s little mouth eagerly turned in toward his mother, Katara sighed in happiness. The sight filling Aang with a feeling like he had never quite felt before, like the universe had suddenly expanded, making room for more happiness than it could previously hold. Contentedly Aang climbed up on the bed, wrapping his arm around Katara, the other arm protectively holding around their baby, as yellow rays of sunshine lighted this now-sacred room.

The dark night had finally ended; morning had finally come, as the little family welcomed this most glorious new day!

…………..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: When I wrote that last sad story about Aang and Katara loosing their baby Gyatso, my husband made me promise to write a happier follow-up. So you have him to thank for this one; turning their mourning into morning. Hope you liked it!
> 
> Please leave a review – it always means a lot to me!


	6. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As you can see, these all seem to exist in their own separate worlds. In the last one, Aang and Katara were married young; in this one, they are still not married. But that’s the beauty of fanfiction, right? Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Katara was pretty used to the way women looked at her boyfriend by now.

Aang had always been cute: big expressive eyes in an almost cherubic face. But in the last few years he had definitely moved from the “adorable” phase of childhood and even through the “everyone-goes-through-it” phase of early adolescence to now being a very attractive young man. Katara definitely appreciated what Aang had grown into, and in a smug sort of way, self-congratulated herself on her “foresight” to snag him when he was still so young and awkward (although that choice had really had very little to do with “snagging” him, and everything to do with having fallen in love with her best friend.) But even she would admit to herself that the fact that he was such a looker now was satisfying.

Aang had a very distinct look – from his shaved head to his uniquely air nomad facial features (which now equated to _one-of-a-kind_), to his orange and yellow robes and his blatant blue full-body tattoos – everything about him was exotic and striking. It was pretty much impossible for Aang to go anywhere in public without being recognized. Even when he did try to “cover up” to blend in, that generally led to strange clothing (hard to cover hands and foreheads up nonchalantly) and something about it bothered him; he didn’t like doing it. Sometimes it beat being mobbed, but most of the time Aang just went through life as himself, which came with the natural consequence of too much attention.

Katara knew that Aang was gregarious and enjoyed meeting new people. But sometimes it did get pretty annoying to deal with her boyfriend being continually fawned over by fan-girls. Aang, for his part, was often oblivious; when he did catch on that a girl was into him, he instantly got awkward, self-conscious, and a bit bumbling. 

Katara considered herself a much better gauge for flirtatious behavior than Aang. Even now at nearly seventeen, Aang often erred on the side of guileless and overly trusting; probably since his view of the world was similar to the way that he himself behaved. He was pretty guileless, so his natural assumption was that everyone else was as well. Even after years of political meetings and debates, Aang’s basic MO was to be transparent and honest. He wasn’t stupid (as a boy he _had_ be manipulated and pawned in the political arena by conniving leaders with forked-tongues and personal agendas, but since then he had wizened up and learned to stand his ground); however, he still opted for openness and sincerity in his own dealings. And being a bit shrewder in politics did not necessarily translate directly into social and romantic arenas. And when it came to women, Aang could be infuriatingly naive sometimes.

Like the time last year when the daughter of their host in a small village inland from the foggy swamp had waited for Aang in Appa’s stable. When he came to feed Appa, the girl started untying her sash and taking off her robe. And what had Aang’s response been? “Oh, I didn’t know you were changing in here… I’ll just go then…” Katara had dropped her head into her hand in exasperation when he told her about it. _Aang, what were you, raised by monks in an all-male monastery or something?_

Or like right now, how Aang sat surrounded by three very forward, uppity Ba Sing Se noble girls; the girls were dressed to the hilt, but with the way they were leaning into him, they looked like they were not committed to staying so… Katara huffed as she approached their table at the outdoor café. She and Aang had both donned Earth Kingdom green, in an effort to blend in just a little. But Aang had not worn a hat, and even if he had, he was likely to be discovered anyway.

As Katara approached the table with two small bowls of soy sauce and vinegar in her hands, she saw that one of the girls was _in her seat_. Her blood started to simmer as she shouldered her way to the table, setting down the sauce bowls.

“Oh hi, Katara! Girls this is my girlfriend, Katara! Katara, this is Qing, FengFeng and Miling.”

The girls smiled, regarding Katara with veiled distain, looking her up and down before tossing their heads and turning their giggling attention back to Aang.

“Your girlfriend, huh?” one of them said.

“We’ve heard so much about you... _Katara_, was it?” the one sitting in her seat spoke with a fake smile and sickly sweet voice. “I didn’t realize you two were _still_ together.” She said the word “still” like it was some great annoyance.

Katara matched her tone, the two understanding each other perfectly, “Yeah, we are _still_ together. And you three are interrupting our date.” Then with an even sweeter voice, “Now run along now!”

The girls huffed and shuffled to leave, telling Aang how “happy they were to meet him!” and how they “hoped to run into him again sometime soon!”, touching his arms, and one of them even running her hands along his shoulders as they jingled away.

Aang rubbed the back of his neck as Katara sat down, “You didn’t have to be so rude to them, Katara…”

Katara’s jaw set, “well you didn’t have to be so nice.”

“They just said they wanted to thank me for ending the war. You know how that kind of thanks makes me uncomfortable, but it would be ungracious not to hear them out. Besides, I think they were just being friendly.”

“Uh-huh. Right. And what about that girl last night? What was it she asked you? _Where _exactly_ your tattoos go?_Aang, don’t be naïve. These women all have ulterior motives.”

Aang blushed, “yeah, thanks for rescuing me last night. I was afraid she was going to ask to see them next…”

“See them? Aang, come on, she wanted a whole brail tour.”

Aang sunk deeper in his seat, his whole face turning red. “Katara! Why would you assume that?!”

“Aang, I just don’t get it. These girls hound you all the time. Would it kill you to just tell them to back off?”

“I don’t think they mean anything by it. They’re just curious. I don’t want to offend anyone…”

Katara grunted in disbelief. Aang was the ultimate people-pleaser: way too polite and worried about causing disagreements. This went beyond the Air Nomad cultural principle of pacifism; this came down to Aang’s own personality. He cringed at conflict and was always quick to step in as a peacemaker. Even when it came to women who threw themselves at him with varying degrees of blatancy, Aang had been known to go to ridiculous efforts to avoid confrontation with them rather than deal with it head-on.

“They are _not_ just curious, Aang. They are _flirting with you_! I don’t want to be the jealous girlfriend here, but come on! One of us has got to have her head screwed on strait!”

Aang somehow managed to look simultaneously disbelieving and guilty. But then his expression shifted to a wicked smirk. “You think _I_ don’t get it? But what about _you_? What about how guys are picking up on you _all the time_ and you act like you don’t even know its happening? Seriously, Katara, talk about calling the tea-kettle black!”

“That rarely ever happens. And besides, they don’t mean anything by it.”

Aang hooted in disbelief, “What?! How can you even _say_ that? What about just this morning in the market on our walk over here? I let go of your hand for one minute and the vulture-wasps descended!”

“Aang, I was _shopping_. Its their job to wait on me – they want me to buy their wares.”

“Uh-huh. Now who’s naive? That one guy didn’t have to stand there stroking your hand just to help you put on a bracelet.”

Katara looked a little shocked, “Aang! He was just doing his job; and besides, he was way too old for me.”

“Doesn’t matter. He was hitting on you. And not even subtly. Man, Katara, I can’t believe you couldn’t see that!”

Katara sat puzzled for a moment as Aang continued.

“All I have to do is look around; guys are checking you out all the time. I know I can’t really blame them (I mean, who wouldn’t? You’re gorgeous, Katara!), but it still bugs me. I want to tear their eyes off you and tell them to stop thinking what they’re thinking.”

“And how do you know what they’re thinking? You’re just getting worked up over nothing.”

“Believe me, Katara, I know what they’re thinking.” Then he looked away shyly, a guilty blush rising to his ears.

Katara melted a little. Aang was so adorable when he was jealous. Katara reached out her hand, placing it on his. He turned his palm up to meld with hers, bringing her hand up to his lips for a moment; an air of sobriety falling between them.

Katara ducked her head to catch his eye. “But none of that matters. We trust each other, Sweetie.”

Aang looked at her, more intensity in his eyes than she expected, “I trust _you_. Its _them_ I don’t trust...”

“Exactly!” Katara jumped on this, “That’s exactly how I feel when I see these grasping women swooping down on you, while you act completely non-the-wiser!” She blew out a forceful breath, “and with this separation coming up… I just… I don’t know.” She struggled to put her feelings into words, “I guess I just can’t help but feel… apprehensive.”

Tomorrow morning Katara would be leaving Ba Sing Se for the South Pole. The ten-year anniversary of her mother’s death was coming up, and in the Water Tribe, that was a ceremonial year. All the loved ones of the deceased needed to gather for Ten Days of Remembrance, each day being specified with specific activities for honoring the dead. The final evening, the closest family members would convene in the tent of the Shaman who would lite incenses made from special herbs and perform the Final Ritual. People were sometimes known to see the souls of their deceased loved ones on this special night. But it was believed that after this ten-year milestone, the soul finally left this world for good, never to visit again. This was an important and sacred ritual, and she needed to be there – for her Dad, but also for herself.

Aang had to stay here in Ba Sing Se. The new Fire Nation Ambassador had figuratively burned a slew of political bridges in the Earth Kingdom, offending nearly everyone in King Kuei’s advisory cabinet. The woman meant well, and she wasn’t wrong in her opinions actually; but she was brash and outspoken, and like her element, pretty hotheaded. Things had gotten so heated in the last meeting that Aang had sent for Iroh to come from his teashop to talk some sense into his Nation’s ambassador and try to smooth over some bristling Earth Kingdom egos. As much as he didn’t like it, his life was not his own, and he simply could not leave Ba Sing Se right now. And frankly, he was over due for a scheduled meeting with Zuko in the Fire Nation as well; so as soon as he felt that the tenuous situation here was safe enough to leave, he would go directly there. So any thoughts of going to the South Pole with Katara were doubly out.

So the two of them were looking at anywhere from a month to two months away from one another. They had not spent this much time apart since… well since before they met.

Aang squeezed her hand, “Yeah, I feel apprehensive too. I hate being away from you, Katara.” Aang picked up his stool and brought it around the table, so the two could sit closer, his knees flanking hers as they sat facing one another. “But I don’t want you to worry about me and… other girls. That’s just ludicrous! You know you’re the only girl for me, Sweetie.”

Katara grasped both of his hands, looking at them as she placed them in her lap, “I know. I trust you, really, I do. I guess… I guess I would just feel a little better if you didn’t, I don’t know, _let _them flirt with you like that. I don’t like it when I’m here, but… I mean what will they be like when I’m not here to chase them away?!”

Aang brought his hand up to her face in affection. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

A sly smile crept up to Katara’s mouth, “you could try using firebending to make yourself hot so they can’t touch you…”

“Make myself hot…?” Aang asked incredulously.

“No! I mean you’re already hot… (that’s kind of the problem…) No, what I meant is make your body hotter so that…” Katara groaned as she dug herself deeper in this faux pas. “That doesn’t sound right! I mean, just… just burn them if they touch you! Or, heat up your skin so they burn their hands if they touch you… or something…” she trailed off lamely.

Aang laughed right out loud. Clearly amused by Katara’s mis-speech implying that somehow “being hotter” would help with his lady problems. “You want me to start burning people…? If they flirt with me…?”

Eventually Katara laughed too, admitting that her idea was ridiculous. But her feelings were genuine and she wanted to communicate that with Aang. “Ok, so no need to… burn anyone. But Aang can you really try to be a little more direct with these girls? Yes, they are being way too forward, and you aren’t exactly inviting them to hit on you, but… well, you aren’t exactly _discouraging_ them either…”

Aang sat back a little, stunned that Katara felt that way. Katara spoke again, “I mean, think about this in reverse, Aang. If I had been sitting there and three handsome guys were hovering around me when you went for sauces… how would _you_ feel?”

Aang sat for a moment, eyebrows drawn as he contemplating that.

Katara went on, “and how about if they were putting their hands on me like those girls did with you?”

Aang answered immediately, “I’d be steaming.” Then cocking a smile, “Most likely literally.”

“See! Well that’s how I feel!”

Aang looked at her again, kindness emanating from him, “I’m sorry, Katara. I hadn’t thought about it like that, from _your_ point of view. I don’t like them flirting with me either, but I just don’t want to offend anyone…” He took her hands in his again, “but I guess I _am_ offending someone when I let it happen. I’m offending _you_, and you’re the last person I want to hurt, Katara!”

“Aang, I know you are loyal to me, and I trust you. But I don’t like feeling jealous, and I do think there are things you could do to lessen the problem.”

“Okay. I’ll be better. I’ll be more upfront in discouraging women who hit on me.” Aang looked at her with a crooked smile, “and what about you? If I’m supposed to burn these girls, does that mean you have to freeze the guys that hit on you?” Aang added cheekily.

Katara laughed, and Aang added, “Then when we are finally back together after this time away from one another we can compare casualty-counts; sound fair?”

“Deal!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Anyone else feel like Aang is a little oblivious to girls flirting with him? We saw it in the show a little, and even more in the comics. I think that Katara would have a problem with this (and you can’t really blame her too much, right?)
> 
> Anyway, please leave me your thoughts in a review!


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